


But Now I See

by enigmaticblue



Series: Grace 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has learned a lot over the last year or two—about being human, about being wrong, about losing that which is most dear before he knew it was slipping through his fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Now I See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt “unrequited pining”.

Castiel wakes with the dawn, mostly because of the birdsong outside his window. He can feel the change in temperature that heralds the rising sun by the warmth on his face and the change in the air. The night feels different than the dawn, and dawn feels different than midday.

 

He rises slowly, familiarity allowing him to find pants and a shirt, and he moves confidently to the bathroom to clean up.

 

Everything in his small rented house is just the way he wants it; everything is tucked away in its own place, out of the way, precisely where he can find it.

 

Breakfast is toast and jam—the bread is on the counter next to the toaster, the jam and butter on the top shelf of his fridge. Sam had purchased Cas’ dishes for him—mostly acrylic, because they wouldn’t break.

 

Sam has been very kind, and Castiel is grateful for his assistance in settling into this new life.

 

Castiel turns on his laptop and listens to the computer read his emails. He has a few from various hunters who want Castiel’s advice. He makes a little money with this work, although most of his income derives from transcribing and translating.

 

As an angel of the lord, Castiel had been able to speak and understand all the languages of man. That hadn’t changed in the last few years. Castiel still has the knowledge he’d gained over the millennia he’s been alive.

 

Castiel works steadily through the morning, stopping to heat a meal that Mrs. Murphy had insisted on dropping by. She brings something weekly, apparently distrusting Castiel’s ability to feed himself.

 

About mid-afternoon, Castiel calls it quits for the day, heading to the fridge for a beer. He’s happy with his progress, although the empty evening stretches out before him.

 

Castiel drinks his beer quickly and starts on a second without leaving the kitchen. He’s not hungry, and he doesn’t feel like making anything, so he figures he’ll be drinking his dinner tonight.

 

He’s halfway through his second bottle when someone knocks on the door of his small, rented house. Castiel doesn’t keep the door locked, so he calls out, “Come in.”

 

He has enemies, of course, but he figures that there isn’t much he can do to fight them off if they come for him. And Castiel isn’t exactly opposed to the idea of dying.

 

Sam’s voice calls out immediately, “Hey, Cas.”

 

Castiel smiles. “Hello, Sam,” he says, strolling out towards the front door. He feels Sam take his hand and press his shoulder in greeting. “How are you?”

 

“Good,” Sam replies. “It’s good to see you.”

 

Castiel smiles. “It’s too bad I can’t say the same. Where’s Dean this time?”

 

“He’s drinking with Bobby.” Castiel can hear the regret in Sam’s voice. “I didn’t tell him I was coming.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Castiel replies. “Dean isn’t exactly my biggest fan.”

 

“He just needs a little time,” Sam says. “He’ll come around.”

 

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m happy with my life,” he insists. Then, spurred on by the need for honesty, he adds, “Most of the time.” Clearing his throat, wanting to change the subject, Castiel asks, “Do you want a beer? I think I have a few left.”

 

“I brought another six pack,” Sam replies. “And some groceries.”

 

“Does Dean know where you’re getting your information?” Castiel asks wryly, following Sam back to the kitchen and sitting down at his tiny table. He can hear the clink of bottles as Sam puts the beer in the fridge, as well as the slide of cardboard against cardboard as Sam puts things in the freezer.

 

“He hasn’t asked, and I haven’t told him,” Sam admits. “Have you eaten yet?”

 

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Castiel replies candidly.

 

He can hear Sam’s sigh. “Cas, you’re getting too thin.”

 

“I do okay.” Castiel thinks that perhaps this is the reason that Mrs. Murphy keeps pushing food on him. “How is Dean?”

 

“He’s fine,” Sam says. “He’s good. We’re on a hunt right now, but we were heading through Sioux Falls, so I thought I’d drop in.”

 

Castiel knows what Sam isn’t saying. He knows that Sam is asking for help without coming right out and saying it, which gives him plausible deniability if Dean asks later. Castiel has learned a lot over the last year or two—about being human, about being wrong, about losing that which is most dear before he knew it was slipping through his fingers.

 

Castiel has learned more than he ever wanted to know about wanting that which he cannot have, and Sam’s presence is a double-edged sword. Sam’s friendship is a balm, but it’s also a reminder that Dean is lost to him.

 

If he’s honest with himself, Castiel is disappointed that Dean still refuses to visit him. Even Bobby stops by once a month or so, even if it’s only to ask for information or drop off a few supplies.

 

But then, Castiel knows how Dean feels about him, and looking back, Castiel understands why Dean had felt so betrayed.

 

Castiel hadn’t been surprised when Dean had stopped coming by after Castiel had been settled. There are things Dean cannot forgive, and Castiel had crossed every line Dean had drawn. At the time, Castiel had believed that he was making the right decision; he knows better now.

 

For the most part, Castiel has accepted that he will never see Dean again, but he wishes for Dean’s presence, even if he has to be content with his visions.

 

Sam coughs, breaking into Castiel’s thoughts, and Castiel feels his face heat. “Let’s go into the living room,” Castiel suggests. “I’d prefer to be comfortable for this.”

 

Castiel leads the way, although Sam’s body heat indicates that he’s very close. “We’ve got a haunting in Milwaukee that’s a bit unusual.” Sam explains as they get settled. “It’s a church, but we can’t find any indications that anybody was killed there.”

 

“Very well,” Castiel says, settling into the couch cushions to wait.

 

He’s never found the right terminology to define what he does. Most of the time his world is dark, and he lives his life by touch and sound and smell and taste, since sight has been taken from him.

 

And then someone will come to him with a problem to solve, a question that needs answering, and Castiel will be able to _see_.

 

His results had been mixed to date. His visions of the future are chaotic and fractured, because the future itself is malleable. It’s easier to peer into the past or the present, and it’s easier yet to inquire after Dean, perhaps because of their bond.

 

On this occasion, Castiel cannot see the future, but the past plays out in his mind’s eye after only a few moments of waiting. He sees the violent death suffered by a woman at the hands of the caretaker, and he feels a stab of pity for her, mixed with disappointment.

 

He will not be seeing Dean this time, in any capacity.

 

“I believe what you’re looking for is in the rectory,” Castiel finally says when the vision dissipates. “Check under the floorboards of the main bedroom. There is a trophy there.”

 

Sam clasps Castiel’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

“Do you think Dean will visit?” Castiel asks, unable to resist asking the question as he always does when Sam visits.

 

“I don’t know,” Sam admits.

 

Castiel nods. “Of course.”

 

“Cas—“ Sam sighs. “You have to give Dean time.”

 

“It has been more than a year,” Castiel replies softly.

 

“Not since the hospital,” Sam acknowledges. “Look, I’ll talk to Dean again, but he’s just—”

 

“Understandably angry,” Castiel says, completing Sam’s sentence. “I appreciate you coming by, Sam.”

 

“Anytime.” Sam puts an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Hey, look. Don’t count Dean out just yet. He just needs time to figure out that you’ve changed.”

 

Castiel sighs. “There’s no guarantee that he will.”

 

“No, there isn’t.” Sam pulls Castiel into a one-armed hug, which Castiel appreciates. Sam is the only person who offers Castiel human contact, something that he craves, even if he can’t always put a name to that longing.

 

Sam releases Castiel. “Look—”

 

“You have to go,” Castiel says quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

 

“Anytime I’m in town,” Sam promises. “And if you call me, I’m there.”

 

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel replies. “Good luck.”

 

Sam releases Castiel and is gone a few moments later, leaving Castiel alone. Having Sam there just reminds Castiel of what he’s given up, what he’s sacrificed as a result of his own hubris.

 

He’s lost Dean, and the occasional visit from Sam or Bobby isn’t enough to make up for that loss. Castiel can be grateful that Sam will still speak to him, and he can live in hope that Dean will one day forgive him.

 

It’s enough to go forward.


End file.
